highly unfortunate
by Rizza Harley
Summary: He stumbles into the most convoluted mess of politics, magic, and vengeful teenagers fresh out of puberty and privately wondered if the multiverse hated him. (It probably did, if the blond - redhead? - was being honest.) Rated for Language. Updates sporadic.
1. afternoon, oct 28

**Hi there. Welcome to this story, _highly unfortunate_ by yours truly. I feel that a warning should be given out, so here goes.**

 **This story is told from the perspective of Ron (Dirk) Weasley (Strider) and focuses on his thoughts in particular. You can try imagining yourselves what exactly transpired between his thoughts. Dirk has a pretty fast thought process, and it doesn't always reflect in his speech. Plus, I am a young teenage girl writing this. I can't exactly ensure that this IS indeed how Dirk thinks but it is, rather, my own interpretation. Cursing is evident here.**

 **Tag Warnings:** **Language, bashing (past and current), confusion, heavily biased, slash, controversial topics, mentions of teenage pregnancy, etc.**

* * *

This isn't what I expected. Actually, no, fuck that, this isn't _where I wanted to be._ I could take dying. Dying sounds real nice right now.

There is no definite or accurate description to tell you what kind pile of shit I'm in right now. But, for starters, it seems I'm stuck in a book.

That doesn't necessarily include glue. I mean I'm in the _world_ dictated by a fucking _**book.**_ Which is just great. Wonderful. An absolute delight. Really.

And to make matters worse, I'm not even sure I'm in the _canon_ world. What do I mean? Here's some context.

For all the years I was stuck in an apartment surrounded by saltwater, I had books I could read. My brother (Who I labeled D because Dave is kind of like my estranged twin or something – wait, maybe _I'm_ the estranged sibling...) left me some so I didn't really get bored per se, for a couple of years.  
Sometimes photographic memory can be a blessing and a curse. Good for gathering info quickly, but when enjoying something...not so much.

Anyway, like what I assume any normal person would, I have the complete set of the Harry Potter Series. Once I finished that I delved into it a lot, most of it for Roxy's sake since she was the one who liked it. I just used it as a distraction before I discovered the game and built Hal.

Okay, so I know Harry Potter, the world I'm stuck in. Good. Whether it was the _original_ world or not, that I wasn't really sure of.

Oh, right. Before I subsequently forget this little detail, I'll write it here. Y'know. To help with my sanity.

I'm now Ron Weasley. Yeah, you heard right. _Ron Weasley._ That redheaded bloke who's good at chess but lets his goddamn arrogance get the better of him at times - but compared to me...

Well, he's probably the closest to a perfect fit for me, really, but that's kind of a moot point since I _am_ him. In the flesh and bone.

As for where I am...? I don't really recognize this place, but it looks like a forest.

 _Snap._

Wait. What was that?

(Future Edit: For reference, to whoever's reading this, I installed a speech/thought/sound-to-text function on my glasses. Isn't the game enabling me to make whatever the fuck I want via alchemiter wonderful? Yes, my Sylladex is still perfectly functioning. I'm still that dude who can destroy souls. Fear me, rawr rawr.)

 _"He's around here somewhere. I felt his magic signature."_

Well, thank god I watched the movies as well. That's Daniel Radcliffe's Harry Voice. I wonder if I should go and meet him, act like the idiot Ron is.

 _"He's not getting away this time. We'll make ickle-Ronniekins pay, Harry, don't you worry."_

Uh. Excuse me? No. What. Those are the twins, right? Gred and Forge?

And what the fuck's this about me paying? Did this world's Ron do something?

 _"Tom says he's just around the corner, but I want you two to be careful."_

 _"Roger that, boss!"_

Woah woah woah. Hang on. That definitely sounds like I – Ron, did something. Also...Tom?

Like...Tom Riddle– oh. Oh _fuck._

This is a problem. Somehow I'm in...god, this sounds _really fucking idiotic,_ but I'm most likely in one of those fanfictions where Dumbledore is _'the bad guy'_ in the sense that he's bashed beyond any recognition, with HP/LV slash thrown into the mix if what I'm hearing is right. I could be wrong. But I'm willing to bet there's some Ron bashing in here too, good lord.

That would explain why they're looking for me?

How do I even get out of this?

...okay, I'm going to turn this thing off for a while. I need to not think about anything else other than escaping them, first and foremost.

I'll update you in a bit.

 _ **[timaeusTestified is offline]**_


	2. morning, oct 29

Newsflash: the Wizarding world is as backwards as fanfiction says it is. Whoop-de-fucking do.

I wonder how Potter even missed me. I was in, mind you, the most obvious goddamn place in the muggle world.

I was in the mall. (Fuck you, I've never been in one. Sue me.) Checking clothes out and buying them.(I learned how to nick and steal shit, alright, gimme a break) Making a complete wardrobe change. I've been contemplating about dyeing my hair to blonde too, but I figured that would come later.

Back to Potter. He's. Well, I'll give the guy credit, he probably didn't expect someone who knows more futuristic 'muggle' (I'll pick up the words from time to time) technology to suddenly shove Ron Weasley to the side and take over the redhead's body and actually _know_ how to be subtle ad discreet. I'll even bet that he was probably in the mindset of 'Ron Weasley does not know how to muggle and therefore will be super fucking obvious in the muggle world, thus if we don't see him there, he's either off country or hiding in a place really well hidden.'

Ah. Sweet irony sometimes. And not the bullshit Dave and I do on a daily basis. I mean pure goddamn irony that contradicts statements like they're the Queen of England.

In any case, as soon as I finished raiding the dollar store (a lame variation of it, sadly) I decided what the hell, let's go back to whatever the Wizarding world was up to. For lack of anything better to do.

Getting into Diagon Alley was maybe a little harder than I originally expected. For one thing, it was never made clear what the combination of the wall tapping pass-code was, and I'm sure as hell not going to rely purely on movie knowledge.

I had to watch a couple of other wizards do it again and again before I finally felt certain. Of course, I could've just asked, but I still don't feel all that comfortable talking with anyone, not with my mind still whirling with possible outcomes and decisions I could make in my current predicament.

It's like channeling an inner-Rose without having the 'Seer' bullshit persona and, instead, being frustrated because there _are so many options._ It's like an infinite amount of the fundamental principles of counting. Therefore there was no definite answer except when I'd already make the choice, which in turn defeats the entire prospect of 'planning'.

And to add; planning shit has never been my forte. That was all Hal who, despite having my mindset, is an AI. Meaning he can whip up a plan (like Synchronize) in no time flat, with our best interests in mind.

Its like he said himself. He's me, without all the emotional baggage.

After I got the right combination (not counting the three other tries I had to do) I entered Diagon Alley and swiped the first _Daily Prophet_ I could find.

What I saw I didn't expect.

Apparently, Potter (and Riddle) had gotten pretty desperate. Now they've gone and had an article made about me and 'my' wrongdoings published.

Before I get into that, I probably need to tell you why I'm not having an aneurysm about being another person entirely.

The answer? I'm that one person who wouldn't mind being anyone else right now. I got that wish, just not in a way that I'd expected. And like every wish, there's a price. I guess living as Ron Weasley inside fan-fiction was that price.

I might have a breakdown later, going into comatose, but I've pushed that priority at the back of my mind for now. I can't do it here. Not yet. Not until I know no one will come looking for me.

The article started out okay, really. But then it kinda delved right into legitimate ass-fuckery I did not expect Potter of all people to have. And when I mean legitimate, I mean the kind of legitimate that contains valid _evidence._

It's blowing my mind away. Assuming Potter was a fair guy, 'I' must've done something really horrible to have warranted that kind of measure. I need to know what that is. Maybe I can turn the tide over and disappear with a new purpose, back in America, or hell, maybe even in Japan.

As for what the actual article said informed me a lot of what the hell Ron was doing before I came along. Apparently, he'd hurt his sister, Ginny, disabling her from walking properly. Then he – huh, get this – impregnated Hermione Granger. That's _beyond_ levels of fucked up, especially if I were to make the assumption that 'I' didn't step up to take responsibility. Or did something to have his own rights to his children justifiably revoked.

Either way, it's clear things aren't looking so hot for me. I don't know what course of action I'll take, but hopefully, I can make one soon.

 _ **[timaeusTestified is offline]**_


	3. afternoon, oct 29

This is getting more and more uncomfortable by the day. If I have to eavesdrop on another conversation one more time and inevitably hear the useless babble of 'mudblood, inferior, you-know-who, and did you know Potter was untrusting of the Headmaster?' I might just go and kill a bitch. Discreetly.

What are the odds of my grabbing a job to become a hitman? Hit-wizard? None? Fair enough. Still would like a job now that I need a source of income. I'm decidedly _not_ going to Hogwarts, much less the fucking **Burrow.** That is just all levels of moronic and dumb. Vetoed. Out of this house.

In any case, my dilemma right now, obviously, is survival. How do I get money? Could I make like, an exchange of currency with my Boon Bucks? I grinded a lot of that. Maybe at Gringotts. Would it hurt to try?

More importantly, what are the chances of me staying alive? And free? Looking at the chances, I'd say there is only just a 10% chance I'd stay unharmed. But I'm guessing there's a Higher percent of me staying alive...with or without my dignity intact is a toss-up.

I mean, it wouldn't be that risky enough for me to actually dismiss the thought. It just might grow a little inconvenient and will most likely bite me in the ass a little later. Even odds.

Ah, I guess I'm going to go do it. I'll keep this open just in case. If I die and someone reads this...you might be confused? Yes. You will be.

I'm heading to the nearest street that is directly heading towards Gringott's now. How I know this, it remains to be seen. I'm honestly just going with whatever this is.

I'm...not sure about this, not entirely, but why does it feel like someone is following me? There's this stining feeling on the back of my neck, as if someone had their eyes trained on me. Potter? No...too risky. If Potter was with Riddle, then chances were he was too high up to do a low caliber mission like this. Perhaps one of his friends?

That wasn't a bad conclusion. I'd better stay low and alert. And discreet. I'm currently just wandering about the bustling crowd of wizards and witches right now, no single direction. I don't take obvious turns, just enough that it looks like I'm weaving around people.

There! There's an alleyway. I can make a run for it via parkour and abuse the hell out of flashstep if I go there.

I'm nearing it. This is giving me an adrenaline rush. Hopefully no one pulls their wand at me. Keyword: Hopefully.

That's...a very distinct flurry of movement.

I don't like doing this, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I turn my ability to see souls on. Besides the regular fruit mix of the wizards, my eyes find a shade that looks like it's floating above the others. Presumably because he's on top of something.

He doesn't appear to see me, which is great. What I would give to place a few bugs on them though.

I should head out. I came here on an errand, after all.

Gringotts is just around the corner.

 _ **[timaeusTestified is offline]**_

* * *

Hi hey, jsyk, this is Dirk's POV we're looking at, and his interpretations of the Harry Potter characters are not entirely accurate. Plus, this is an AU of an AU.

The original AU is the whole HP/LV thing with Good!Voldy and some good ol' Ron-bashing.

(I love how flexible I can stretch Ron's character really, at the baseline he's just like any normal person with his own shit to deal with but it comes with different consequences in the fiction world. I'd have Ron as a friend irl, but for the plot convenience of this story he's interpreted as an asshole here, and his arrogance stemming from false bravado and insecurity.)

Some inter-house unity too, and Dumbles being an idiot with far too much time and power on his hand. Poor Dirk!Ron just wants out and start anew, but he also doesn't want to let anything go unfinished lest it bite him in the ass later.

THAT'S IT FOR THIS A/N I WON'T BE DOING MORE UNLESS I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING MY SHIT AHHHHH


	4. afternoon, oct 31

Gringotts was okay. No one noticed my heading over there, which is great, but the service could be better. Then again, goblins were handling the accounting. Who the hell knows if that was their default state.

But back to my predicament last entry. It doesn't look like I was spotted coming out of Gringotts. I guess no one thought Ron Weasley would make a break for Gringgotts, which is fortunate for me since, well, I'm trying _not_ to be Ron at the moment, not until I have enough resources to back me up in case of basically anything.

As for what I did in Gringotts, well. There was this theory I had, from reading all the fanfiction (for educational purposes, _shut up_ ) that all pointed towards any deity, supernatural being, really having a vault in there...somewhere. Some untouched, even.

I had a vault. Shared with all other Heart Players to ever exist. And it was filled decently, but I needed to be careful with budgeting.

The reactions of the goblins were strangely funny too. They looked seconds away from offering me whatever it was goblins offered - they were also half-way disgruntled, as they told me, because Ron Weasley was specifically banned from Gringgotts, courtesy of Potter.

Well, fuck you, Potter, you didn't expect the Destroyer of Souls to come knocking, did you? I have a farther reach on souls than Death (at least I hope so - myths say that Death is merely a bridge between souls' resting place and the living realm).

I keep getting off track, don't I? I'm heading to the ice cream shop everyone who had read Harry Potter in forever keeps mentioning online (They were probably dead by the time I read those, but _details_ ), Florean Fortescue something or other. I have no idea why the quotes look so stupid on their menu but by God, they bother me so much.

The only reason I'm setting myself in the open like this is because I, somewhat stupidly, am curious about Potter's groupies. Have they teamed up with Slytherin? How was this world's Dumbledore watching them? Is Tom Riddle sane, or has Harry Potter gone Dark, with his friends tagging in along for the ride?

There's so much I don't know. Well, I can take a crack at remembering the History of Magical Britain (which, admittedly, wasn't much, just the whole war with Grindelwald and the rise of the Knights of Walpurgis before suddenly disappearing and, of course, Lord Voldemort's reign of terror) but that doesn't help me so much with my situation now because the recent happenstances are most definitely NOT recorded in any history book.

So baiting them it is.

I didn't actually look at the flavor of the ice-cream I ordered, but it tasted fine so I didn't bother. I'm trying to look for anyone suspicious, which, if this was a book, would be aptly described as 'my eyes shifted everywhere, watching, waiting,' etcetera. What? I like writing on occasion too.

No one seems to be coming, for all the 30 minutes I've been enjoying my ice-cream. Thank god for the joys of charms, because this thing was spelled to keep itself frozen until it was in my throat to melt happily inside. As inherently flawed as their system is, Magic itself is wonderful. Too bad I can't seem to replicate it with tech, even if I got close with the alchemiter.

I bumped into a lady.

I should say sorry, ri- oh fucking _shit._

 _It's Hermione bloody Granger._ Someone - dark skinned and probably black? - was with her, as well as the face of Matthew Lewis. Neville Longbottom, whatever.

I think I lucked out with quickly going through with my sorry, as gruff as it was and turning away from them and moving forward. I bought myself time - but that was only a probability.

" _Weasley -_ "

"Ron?!"

I have no idea what Longbottom was doing, but he didn't say anything and I wasn't looking at them to know. A pit opened up in my stomach and I quickened my pace, nearly jogging as I hoped to leave their sights.

Apparently, my luck ran out. Bloody wonderful.

 **[timaeusTestified is Offline]**


	5. Interlude 1

"I'm telling you, Mia, there's no way-" Blaise tries to refute, amusement flashing in his eyes as his Gryffindor friend rolls her eyes. Beside him, Neville chuckles. Blaise decides he quite likes his boyfriend's laugh, soft and firm like honey.

(Well. He and Neville were definitely going places.)

Before Hermione launched into another pseudo-rant, she was accidentally shoulder-checked by another wizard. The only reason Neville did not bristle was that the bloke seemed equally as startled as they were.

"Sorry," he nodded and swept away, quiet and reserved. It took Blaise and the others several moments before they took notice of the familiar red crown of hair, but by then the Weasley was nearly 30 feet away from where they originally stood.

Not to mention, they walked forwards as well, giving the distance an additional 20 feet, making it 50 in total - hence why their eyes had to strain when their head whipped back around.

"Weasley!"

"Ron?!"

Neville, who got over his shock a second quicker than either of them, immediately pulled out a pendant and activated the dormant magic inside. "Ron's here!" He urgently whispered. A pulse of magic alerted him to a message sent to him. " _Follow him - don't lose sight!_ "

Neville sent an affirmative and ran for where he last saw the redhead. Hermione and Blaise quickly followed suit, easily dodging and weaving between masses of people. They did not spare more than a cursory glance at the people around them - It might not have even crossed their mind that Ronald Weasley ducked into an alley and shoved his hair under a wig of another color. They needed to find that redhead. Quick.

Who knew what terrors the Wizarding Community would face if Ron stepped out from their prison? Which confused them, because how on earth did he get out? Tom Riddle himself made the wards for Merlin's sake, and it was powered by _Harry_ of all wizards. No one shy of Dumbledore could have gotten himself out, much less _Ron._

Too bad they never saw the strapping young lad accosted by young witches, all but bathing in the attention. They dismissed it as another bloke over-confident, and besides, he wasn't doing any harm. A cocky smirk painted on his lips, blue eyes twinkling with delight, but his hands stayed respectfully at his sides. Blaise felt they did not have time for it anyway, and urged his companions on. Hermione was biting at her lip, eyes darting about in hopes to catch Ron.

Neville looked like he was on a warpath. Privately, Blaise would even go as far as to say it looked a little hot. Not that he'd admit it out loud, he wanted his dick in place, thank you very much. (Neville's Gran was rightly terrifying, no questions asked.)

The Longbottom Heir cut through the crowd with an ease that made Hermione jealous. One of the things she was peeved about being a Muggleborn was that they weren't saddled with the additional skills purebloods had to have the sort of effect that was useful for a bustling street like this.

But try as they might, it didn't seem like they were catching up to Weasley. They were straining their eyes, their necks, and their toes, but they saw neither hair nor hide of the redhead. That begged the question, however. Where had he gone?

And how would they ever explain this to Harry and the Dark Lord?

Neville and Hermione were partially safe, they did not bear the Dark Mark. Blaise, however, was a different story. Who knew how Harry would have to deal with the dilemma.

Blaise himself wasn't overly concerned, though. He didn't have to be. Harry would cut them some slack, and if he didn't, the punishment for failure wasn't _too_ bad. _Neville might instigate war with Harry if that was the case_ , thought Blaise with a wry grin.

But first; back to finding Weasley.


	6. morning, nov 1

I can't believe that actually worked. Who would've thought acting like I was even _more_ of a douchebag had done wonders to keep myself hidden? The more you know.

But seriously, I nearly shit my pants with how close I was to getting caught. If I was, I could've just, I don't know, apparated away, but one; there are wards against apparition, and neither Potter nor Riddle are stupid. Two; how the hell am I supposed to know how to apparate? I'd rather flash away than splinch myself. Three; killing is not an option. I've chopped down harder skin than them, but the thought of actual murder will not only damper everyone's current opinions on me, it might also worsen whatever the hell's going on with myself.

I _know_ there's something wrong with me. No one else can convince me otherwise. I got curious about seeing souls, because its a new thing to me, so I removed my shades, stashed them in my sylladex and _looked._

Shattered. That's what my soul looked like. It was glowing a faint orange, and a little pink curled up into a small kneaded ball. But it was splintered. Little pieces were floating around a larger piece.

Which. _What the hell_ , I thought, making my vision return to normal.

I know parts of my soul were chipped off, but if that did happen it would have looked like a missing piece or a gaping hole from my own soul. But no. This was legitimately splintered like it had no business staying together.

I'm trying to put it out of my mind. Hell, I'm trying to put today's events out of my mind.

It was like once I saw what I had just seen, everything fell apart. I can't think clearly. Not clearly enough to make a plan. This would be so much easier if Jade or Rose were here. Dave. Jake. Jane. Roxy. John.

I always used them as anchors to reality. Now they were _gone._ Some wish this was.

I'm waving goodbye to the girls who were unintentional tools for me to hide, silently thanking them a bunch because I probably couldn't have pulled it off as well as I did, hiding from Granger, Longbottom, and who I assumed was Zabini. (The description seemed accurate, at least.)

I'm finally alone in a secluded corner of the street. I'm partly sure this is still Hogsmeade, so I should leave. Maybe. Or...hide out in Hogwarts? It's going to increase the risk of being caught exponentially, and it was reckless (no surprise there) but where else would I go?

...

Well, there's an idea.

A bad one. But an idea. Now, assuming I can find the right materials, I'm going to need a place to hole myself up for a while...

Because if I'm going to be sneaking into Knockturn Alley, I'm going to have to look like a purebred wizard leaning on Dark Magic.

Easy.

 _Not_.

 ** _[timaeusTestified is offline]_**


	7. afternoon, nov 1

There is a problem.

I don't know any Pureblood customs. I don't even know how to begin acting like a pureblood, much less a _dark-aligned_ pureblood.

Actually.

Are Light and Dark aligned Wizards even a thing? Will the regular Rose-esque theory of magic work here?

Rose's perception of magic is something along the lines of the more you want, the more it becomes. Classification of magic comes in a lot of different aspects, as well. If one could count Classpects in it, well, that was a whole other matter entirely.

Basically, one could either be an attack, defense, or support kind in regards to 'magic'. For types, there was the usual Light and Dark, or Yin and Yang because Rose is a dramatic poet for some incomprehensible reason (but I'm betting on her being as vague and obscure as possible just for laughs. She's clever, not a boring person) then came the aspects which slotted neatly with yin and yang, but every aspect had yin and yang sides respectively.

For example - Heart. Power over souls. On one hand, emotions and empathy. On the other, potential manipulation and whatever harm tampering with souls could do.

But that was just for us. For my friends. Would it apply here? Would any of my knowledge, from my friends to my late night obsessions with the internet, to the sparse amount of books Bro left me, be useful here? I'm from the 23rd century. How the fuck am I supposed to know what to do in the twentieth?

The one thing I despise most about my situation is that I have no allies here.

The Goblins have agreed to keep my identity and situation a secret, but they can't help me as they are willingly loyal and bound to Potter and Riddle. Oh, joy. Scarfang, one of the goblins, gave his sympathies in the form of patting me on the back. It has not improved my state or status in any shape or form, but the sentimentality was appreciated.

I don't have anyone to talk to, which sucked as well.

I can't even go to the muggle side of things, I'd be risking the Statue of Secrecy.

The first thing I absolutely, very much need to do is to gather information. I need to know the ins, the outs, the ollie outies out of every mother fucking aspect of this culture until the actions are like first nature for me to make. To accomplish this, I believe staking out on private property and social get together parties are key. That, or I could read.

Whichever I pick, I will have a definite high chance of being caught. At the risk of sounding like Hal, there is at the very least a 50% chance that I will be seen and pursues like the hounds tracking a scent. I could definitely do both, given enough time, but as some of you may have already surmised, time is not a luxury I can afford to have.

For now, I'll pick the safer option. Pick a secluded library out of the way of anyone, and do my research there. I'll have to make note of spells, too. If there were any minimal mana-costing, multi-purpose spells that don't get remembered by a lot of people, then I have every right to abuse them as much as I want. To make the spells feel special, you know?

[timaeusTestified is Offline]

* * *

Hi. I never died. I just forgot to upload stories.

Ongoing Story Count: 1, 2, 3(?), 4(this one)...5? 5. Maybe. Probably. Heaven help my soul. Oh no, wait, 6 stories. I'm working on 6 stories. God above.


	8. midday, nov 5

This is unreal.

You know how I previously mentioned that it was one of _those_ fanfictions where I implied that the regular world of Harry Potter was built upon the foundations and all but expanded in?

Then you're going to want to know that Hogsmeade (arguably part of Hogwarts Grounds), Knockturn Alley and Diagon Alley aren't the only areas in the British Wizard World. You'd think that for a country as big as Britain and a population as small as the British Wizards they'd make little changes to the scenery around them, but apparently _not._ I noted this weird looking post with one arrow directing to the busy street of Diagon Alley one way, and a sign that I mistakenly assumed was part of the labels of Diagon Alley.

It wasn't. It was a path mark for a different sector in the opposite direction of Diagon. The sign itself held a fairly simplistic design, which seemed to me more like an intricate rune depicting the moon of all things.

And get this.

The street was called _Maanu Alley_. Searching it up (thank you, stupidly convenient WiFi connected shades), ' _Maan_ ' meant moon in Afrikaans with an added u to make it, of all things imaginable, a pun that said 'Manually'.

Is that why there was a double rectangle behind the crescent shaped insignia? To look like the cover and the spine of a book? I'll have to admit, its pretty clever. And you had to 'manually' find your way into the section by navigating this way and that.

All things aside, my venture to another part of the Wizarding World bore a bountiful harvest. The library was incredibly large, full of information and basic wizard etiquette that I needed to know _yesterday dammit._ So many altercations between Potter and Weasley could have been avoided if both of them _and_ Granger bothered to remember that there were books on how to adjust your behavior. Weasley and Potter, maybe I could understand, but _Granger?_ She loved books, didn't she? She should have sniffed this out!

Then again, that woman had been described to having a one-track mind (supposedly). She could have read one book and that book made her decide that only books at _Hogwarts_ could be trusted. _Even after the Headmaster apparently proved worthy of mistrust._ Common sense really does diminish in this magical realm.

I think I'd rather be a muggle, thanks.

In any case, I'd also picked up some books on some of the history on politics. Obviously, it wasn't worded as such, but to spare myself and the BWW (British Wizarding World) the embarrassment I won't be telling you the exact titles. Trust me, if you ever go looking for these, you'll know when you see it.

The point is, the political history is actually just a historical narrative that dictates exactly _every action_ every noble ever made, good or bad. There are actual _transcripts_ of what they said to each other. It's amazing. I'm pretty sure there was a lot of censure Purebloods made by pointedly _not_ giving muggleborns anything about their culture and served to drive an invisible wedge between 'high class' and 'low class', but this?

This was a cultural _goldmine_ if one cared to look deeper. I'm guessing Purebloods _still_ think muggles are too stupid to gather and analyse information from different sources.

I won't even touch the fact that it is completely ironic how purebloods are, at their core, striving to enhance magical heritage, society and customs; but selfishly keeping that culture to themselves and outright killing their own population just to feel superior. You can't have both things, guys, pick one and stick with it.

I got to keep the book, somehow. The librarian told me that not much youngsters keep up with relevant history these days (which, bravo, man, throwing shade at Hogwarts' educational flops like that) so I could keep it, considering the fact that they had several other copies lying around. The librarian also made me pay for the book, which wasn't much of a surprise. I also applied for a library card, which conveniently (the librarian winked?) did not have to register any type of name as it actually recorded my magical signature instead.

So I took my chance and borrowed a whole stack of books on other subjects like charms, geographical landscapes, and obscure magical theories that I could actually wrap my head around. The librarian seemed pretty happy and told me to come back whenever for a chat and some tea. I jokingly asked if they had coffee.

This made the librarian sob happily (there were actual tears) while I stood awkwardly because what does a dignified Strider do in that sort of situation without showing emotion?

Offer the sobbing librarian tissues, obviously.

My information gathering about social customs is a success. I'll catch an inn, get some sleep, and look at my magical wardrobe tomorrow.

 **[timaeusTestified is Offline]**


	9. afternoon, nov 8

Maanu Alley is my new best friend. I don't particularly give one shit that its an inanimate area with no sentient mind -- its got everything I need and is there for me,so the alley is my best friend. You can fight me on this, but you'd no doubt lose because from the very depths of my soul, screw you and not breaking reality. Have you seen John? Reality is broken. I can damn well do what I want.

I honestly adore this alley now. It's got loads of shit that goes unnoticed if you didn't know what you were looking for.

And the clothes.

Good grief, the clothes.

Let me tell you, I came inside that tailor shop expecting to get three pairs of outfits, and I came out with a wardrobe trunk. Full of absolutely every kind of clothing there was in the magical world. Hell, I'd gotten Japanesecut robes! My inner weeb has now been satisfied.

As another joke, I asked them if they had something close to Rainbow Dash. I don't know how they knew it existed, but I swear they just pulled up a rack and pulled out a shiny blue formal looking coat that shined rainbowswhen the light hit it just right.

Yes, I bought it. What do you take me for, a reasonable person? It's Rainbow Dash.You can't nottell me you would not purchase a steal of something like this?

It's getting pretty hot right now. Since I have my clothes, I think I should shut in for a while, in the inn. It's not like I have anything better to -- lakfjlaijpfampeocdmERROR **ERROR** **_ERROR_**

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	10. Interlude 2

"Hello, prince."

Dirk watched the blonde woman warily. She had somehow overrode his glasses' functionality. But he couldn't tell what she wanted. She called him 'prince', which was pretty damning a title.

She didn't see Ronald Billius Weasley.

She saw him. The Destroyer of Souls.

The Prince of Heart.

"Terribly sorry for the interruption," she fleetingly patted his shoulder, walking past him and sitting on a bench he'd just passed. "Won't you spare time to chat?"

It hit Dirk. This woman, her absent-minded gaze, her wistful silver eyes and the gentle whispy-like way she moved...This was Luna Lovegood.

And he was fairly sure she was firmly in the Potter side of things.

"Don't worry, Prince," she looked at him with that vacant gaze, far sharper than he would have liked. "Harry Potter won't know a thing, if you take my offer."

"What's the catch?" He replied, taking a seat and leaving a gap between the two of them as much as the bench would allow.

Lovegood hummed. "Well...I need you for a favor."

"I'm Ronald Weasley..."

"No, you're really not."

Dirk sighed. "And if I don't comply?"

Luna smiled at a dancing bowtruckle. "The nargles are plenty mischievous, but they've grown terribly fond of Harry Potter and Tom."

Dirk rubbed the bridge of his nose. "And do I get anything out of this?" Like hell was he going to do anything for anyone unless it was in his full interest.

Luna eyed him. "Hmmm...a close one is nearby. He's been dreadfully worried about you. The chessmaster's reach can be rather choking."

Dirk stared at her, bewildered, pressing his lips together. "Who would ever want to team up with me?" He wasn't an idiot. Someone worrying about him definitely spelled potential ally. You didn't have to slap him across the face with a fish to figure that out.

Luna giggled, reaching a hand out in front of her, grasping at nothing. "Silly Prince. A Chess Player has more than one pawn. This pawn is drowning under spoken words and hidden barbs, countering bribes of wealth and prosperity, and keeping his secrets under lock and key."

Dirk fell silent. Spoken words...wordplay? The only way to acquire wealth was a good paying job like in the Ministry...

But who was under the ministry that could potentially be played by Dumbledore?

Luna didn't wait for him to figure it out and stood up. He thought she would be leaving, but all of a sudden she grabbed his arm and dragged him away.

"...where are you-?" He tried to ask, but it didn't seem like Luna heard him.

Finally, they arrived at a shabby looking warehouse.

Dirk stared at the ruined building once and took a step back.

"Wait, Lovegood, I don't think --"

"You need this, Dirk Strider." Luna lost her absent gaze and stared at him directly, eyes sharp as steel. "The nargles around your head are proving to be harmful."

There was a distinct foreboding feeling around her words that made Dirk fall eerily still.

" _Listen well,_ " her words turned into a haunting melody. " _He who enters this realm shan't make a move_ ," her eyes glowed with a seer's power. Dirk should know, he's seen Rose do it. " _he shan't say a word till he understands._ "

Understand what exactly?

" _He who comes to this realm shall enter through another's eyes. He who [ **governs the innermost turmoil of our hearts]** will **[mend this bound and broken soul].** He will **[reignite the flame of passion, the cogs will shed their rust and begin turning once more.]**_ "

Luna held his hands. Underneath, a magic circle began shining through years of uncleaned dust, displaying intricate patterns and runes that Dirk could not comprehend, not with the meager knowledge that he had. He tried to take his hands away, but to his shock, he couldn't move. Not with the ritual happening around him.

No matter how much he struggled, he simply couldn't break out. Here's hoping it wasn't a Just or Heroic Death, right?

" _Let him realize_ ," Luna chanted. " _Let them **unite**. Hear me, O spirits Above. Take his soul and let this master **know**._"

The runic circle shined brightly, and the characters on the floor duplicated themselves and floated upwards, towards Dirk. They plastered themselves on his skin, but to Dirk's relief, they didn't hurt.

His chest surged with an unknown heat, and he fell on one knee. Luna stood before him, her magic reaching its peak, leaving a shimmering trail of light around her.

Dirk began to feel dizzy. He didn't understand what was happening, he couldn't tell left from right anymore. His world spun before his eyes, and it took all of his strength not to slump down on the floor and stay upright.

" _Sleep_ , Prince of Heart," a voice murmured. "No one will find you here."

That sounded really tempting. Just this once, maybe Dirk could let go.

What more could he have to lose, after all?

Dirk fell asleep.

And

 _then_

 _they_

 ** _woke_**

 **up**.


	11. morning, nov 9

**[Log In Successful. Recovering Data...]**

Holy shit.

Agh, no, I shouldn't be surprised. It's Luna, after all.

She was a lot like Rose, isn't she?

...Yeah. Yeah, she really is.

What about Harry? What about him? We should explain. Since when has that ever been good for us?

Us?

 _Yes, you idiot. Us. Lovegood's ritual?_

Is that what that was?

 _Yes. If we want to be completely technical, it was a runic circle designed for beings like me._

Oh...right. The Prince of Heart, right? She called you that.

 _Do I have to reiterate this? Us. We're one singular individual now, Ron. Get yourself together. Whatever Lovegood -_

Luna. At least call her that.

 _Fine. Whatever_ ** _Luna_** _did, it awakened us into...whatever we are now._

So...You're..me, now?

 _Yeah. And I'm you. Right now, I have complete unhindered access to every single one of Ron Weasley's set of memories, emotions, beliefs, all that life shit. And you have complete unhindered access to mine. Abilities and everything._

Wait, so...

 _Fuck! Don't_ ** _do_** _that, you half-brained moron!_

Sorry! My bad.

 _Come on, Weasley. We have experience on both the Wizarding World and the clusterfuck I was in now. Use that brain of yours._

I'm sorry we all weren't born geniuses like you.

 _You really didn't see yourself as one?_

Compared to Hermione? Harry? The twins? What genius was there in me?

 _So all your carefully made plans, those weren't the stroke of a genius?_

That doesn't really count.

 _On the contrary, I believe it does. Ron, if anyone with half the common sense I do right now saw you in the middle of concocting those schemes, they likely would have kidnapped you and made you write military grade strategies for_ _ **decades**._

You're just saying that.

 _Okay. We have a lot to work with here. We'll leave it for later. Percy, huh?_

Yeah. I didn't want to keep bothering him, so I thought I'd carry out that mission alone.

 _Until I came?_

Until you came.

 _Are you mad?_

What's there to be mad about? There's no point trying to change things that can't be changed.

 _...fuck, Potter, you really wasted a good chance._

What's that supposed to mean?

 _You're in my brain, smart guy. You tell me._

Okay, no, I'm not thinking about that. Oh god. Are you going to do that again?

 _I'm not going to make another AI again, if that's what you're asking._

So...you won't try to captchalogue - that word's a mouthful - your brain again?

 _I don't know, Ron. Will you?_

 **Definitely not.**

 _Then there you go._

Argh, we really don't have time for this.

 _Remember, we're one person now. 'I' pronouns, Weasley._ I **know** that!

Right. So. Runic Circle designed for Gods...for some reason. One would think there wouldn't be anything like it, but sucks to be you if you thought that, I guess.

By inspecting Luna's chant more closely...those weird lines she said. They were most likely labels. Titles. For tying a god to a mortal soul.

It was slightly modified though. Else I wouldn't have the Heart Aspect's abilities anymore.

In any case, this little detour hasn't changed my goals in the slightest. I STILL do need to go the Knockturn Alley, if only to keep track of what Harry and Riddle's been doing. Dumbledore, well, I get enough of that from Percy, so I'm sure we're sufficiently covered on that end.

...'sufficiently'? Blimey, I didn't think I'd ever get the chance to expand my vocabulary...and vitriol too, now that I think about it.

Back on track, _thank you Dirk's attention span_ , I got the books. I've got a good wardrobe. Should I get a house, though? I've got experience living in an apartment, and mum's made me clean the house without magic so I'm basically covered. Am I thinking too much into this? Can't be. Maybe I need to assimilate a little more to Dirk Strider's personality, with priorities on his thought process. Ron Weasley...well, there _are_ some traits there that could balance Dirk's. The emotional part, for one. Don't want to tip the blurry grey line of ambiguous morality.

... _oh fuck._ _Percy!_

Also. I need to change that handle for the time being...

 **[User's handle has been changed.]**

 **[tentativeTraitor is now Offline]**


	12. afternoon, nov 11

_I can't believe you forgot Percy. He's your brother, Weasley. For shame._

Not if you couldn't tell, but we were a bit _preoccupied_ with a lot of other things!

He seemed rather relieved when I showed up...though not after a thorough berating of how much of a downright idiot I was for not checking in earlier. If I hadn't come sooner, apparently _Dumbledore_ would have...looked.

And attention from that man is the last thing we want. So, y'know.

Speaking of which, I should probably go thank Luna for keeping my head - and soul- on straight. No offense to the Dirk side of me (that will never stop being weird will it?), but the longer we'd have gone on /your/ soul alone the faster we'd disintegrate. And I don't much fancy the idea of making Percy more incensed than he already is. Or more fussy. Or generally just...more stressed, I suppose.

No, no, I really shouldn't. Lovegood's in cahoots with Potter. Its bad idea numero uno no matter how many times you look at it. Why had I even considered it? There's only a small, barely 20% chance of me coming out of that confrontation alive, and out of that a mere 5% chance of not getting injured in the process. The odds are, essentially, stacked against me in that regard. So no, no thanking Luna until at least 5 years later.

I should thank the high heavens that Percy was willing to believe me when I said I had the consciousness of a God dwelling inside me.

It was really freaky, though, when he'd said I'd been claimed since ever since I'd been born. I thought the birthmark on my chest was just a weird quirk, but here we are. I don't even remotely remember making a mark on myself, as Dirk. I had barely beaten the game with my family at that point?

Time shenanigans. It has to be time shenanigans. I'll put down a note to ask Dave or the ram-horned troll about it sometime soon. Preferably before I'm burnt to a crisp or tortured beyond measure.

To say Percy was freaked out about my kidnapping (before awakening as Dirk Strider, apparently) was an understatement. He wouldn't let me go for hours, the hours lost working in the MoM and his job be damned. Why does every Weasley say Percy was an uppity little bastard when this overly anxious, super stressed and constantly on caffeine addled brother is what I see? And _I'm_ the insomniac. It is very, very weird.

I can't necessarily blame Percy, however. Maybe I should give him a book to unwind. The Percy Jackson books?

No, those don't exist yet.

Percy, after getting over the initial shock over the revelations I revealed to him (as if I was going to keep him in the dark. Nothing good comes out of bottling stuff up, as I've learned from exhibit # a, Harry Potter) was all but interested in how I planned to go from here.

We spent a fair amount of time scheming back-up plan after back-up plan. Dumble-dick's next assignment for me was to, essentially, stick my nose into Potter's business so hard that I may as well be watching a live-stream of Potter and Riddle banging like some bad porn flick.

My dilemma is how I'm going to go about it this time.

One problem is that I now have a genius brain capable of photographic memory and calculating the odds out of everything. Hence the numerous back-up plans. Whatever I do ends up being super subtle and super convoluted that its very much _not_ how Ron Weasley, pre-infusion, operated.

Granted, some of those plans were ridiculously flashy, but again, _convoluted enough_ that it glaringly seemed impossible for it to be 'Ron'.

Percy was definitely amazed at what I'd accomplished. I think he drooled a little.

But I'm really thankful for a brother like him. He was able to calm me down from my high and get me thinking rationally to kink out some of the details in many plans and back-up plans.

Apparently, I'm the only Weasley sibling that hasn't pranked anyone yet, all because Percy mentioned that young or old, people fell for the same tricks, which is terrifying to think about because it meant _Percy_ managed to fool everyone into thinking he's just a stuck-up "pure-blood" hoping to rise up the ranks.

But the plans he helped clean up...man, you don't want to know.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure Dumbledore intends for Percy and I to be the bait. We're still being hunted by the Dark Cookie Club Crew (D3C, for now), and to be honest all this planning and thinking and generally being _alive_ makes me want to curl up and die on the spot.

Percy and I agreed to iron out the first of our plans to fuck shit up with the D3C tomorrow and carry it out the next week, after we've made the proper preparations.

I haven't told Percy this, but I finally purchased that apartment, in a nice little town away from the general vicinity of Magical Britain should things ever go south. I'll head there in two day's time, to set up most of my rigs and tech, and unloading my sylladex before it becomes a problem.

...can spells be captchalogued?

...I'll test it some other time. I'm sorry, reader, for the wild trains of thought here. I haven't got the chance to get much sleep, what with paranoia and all keeping me awake.

Oh, and Ron's Anxiety levels and Dirk's Insomnia certainly aren't helping any.

Either way, I'll try to get some shut-eye tonight.

Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

 **[tentativeTraitor is Offline]**


	13. Interlude 3

"You head straight to bed, you hear me Ronald?"

An annoyed look was thrown, but the younger Weasley nodded his head and headed to the small makeshift bedroom Percy had prepared for his brother.

Percy watched silently as Ron rubbed a tear out of his eye, yawning. He shook his head. It was in the middle of the day and his brother hadn't slept at _all._ He didn't know whether it was the god's influence or not, but Percy was going to keep a closer eye on his brother during the night. Who knows how that insomnia Ron was starting to develop would act up.

Percy sighed heavily, slumping into the tiny couch once Ron was out of sight. It was one thing to look calm and collected in front of your family, it was entirely another to do as much in front of strangers he could really care less for.

Contrary to popular belief, Percy never wanted to be under the thumb of the ministry. He wanted to be an acceptable member of wizarding society, yes, but delving into the bureaucratic bullshit that was ministry politics was not the only way to do it! It was just, arguably, the easier and more obvious method.

Percy, currently, was trying to obtain the Prewett Family ring, and thanked all hell and back that neither Dumbledore nor Potter had thought to check the line of succession for that particular family line - thinking his mother had it.

He rubbed the Prewett heir ring currently worn by his middle right finger. He was lucky at all to actually be eligible for it in the first place. It was only because of his current position that he was able to quietly invest the Prewett wealth into several blooming businesses, and he was pleased to note that he was gaining a very hefty revenue from each.

A flick of his wand handed him the documented reports of the stocks he'd distributed. During his Ministry stint, one of the reasons Percy wasn't able to find the time to contact anyone was because he was busy taking cram lessons in stock and trade markets in the muggle world. He was so sure he'd sent an owl to his Mother about it, but evidently since none of them seemed convinced that he and Ron could ever think to go to the muggle world Molly probably never got a hold of that particular letter.

And the bridge was burned before he could even get the chance to save it. He sighed tiredly, flipping through the pages of the reports, noting that some of the businesses he'd traded in (mostly muggle based) had accumulated a steady amount of funds, while some had plummeted. The reason he was dabbling in the art of business in the first place was purely because he needed some kind of insurance to fall back on once Dumbledore saw fit to...dispose of Percy. Now that he'd taken Ron under his wing, Percy had to work double the time for Ron's own trust fund.

While Ronald had offered to work as a White Hat for the Muggle British Government, Percy denied the suggestion and assured his brother that he'd find a way. And by Merlin, he would. Ronald, even with the new addition (in his soul? brain? Percy couldn't tell) he had, was still a child. Percy was in the throes of adulthood , a good 4 or 5 years older and thus the responsibility of finances fell onto him.

Plus, doing a little bit of business work was very beneficial if Percy wanted to raise the standing of the Prewett House. Currently, the ranking of the house was at about 42 of all 103 houses currently recorded. The top 10 listings were reserved for the Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses - the real ones. Meaning among the families, the Potters, the Weasleys, the Malfoys were included to name a few. Prewett was simple a Most Noble House, which a lot of people could be nowadays if they were prestigious enough. The House of Prewett was once known for its numerous influences on various establishments, hence why Percy was focusing on the business side of the House first and foremost. It was the ply of the trade - Prewett's Specialty.

Through learning how to manage his House, Percy learned that each House in the British Wizarding World had specializations that they focused on. The Longbottoms, for example, favored combat abilities. Neville Longbottom's penchant for Herbology was purely the influence of his mother who married into the Longbottom House, but ultimately Longbottom's specialty was Combat.

Percy could list every House specialty all day, however he decided he couldn't get his thoughts stuck in the air for long and went back to work. He was just about finished and was finally wrapping up. However, a little detail caught his eye. Percy blinked, staring at the documents again. The words flew around his head, slotting themselves in a neat little conclusion. But that didn't make any sense. Well, no, it did make a lot of sense, but it wasn't supposed to be possible.

 _20% shares and stocks,_ it read. _5% interest rate via Ancient Noble House of Potter._

Percy scanned his eyes through the document again. His eyes were not playing tricks. One of the businesses he'd been investing in had the Potters backing them up as well.

Motherfucking _shit._

This was not good. Percy tapped his pen on the table relentlessly, biting his lip. His mind worked on overdrive, thinking up one scenario to the next. If Potter were to look through the paperwork from this, there was no doubt that all Percy's hard work would be done for. The whole reason he'd started investing in the House of Prewett was because he was trying to avoid the wrath of several prestigious Houses! And this was the exact opposite of that!

The most logical response, of course, was to remove all associations with the business entirely. While it would take a hit to the income Percy had been slowly and gradually accumulating, it wasn't that big of a loss considering the stakes. HAD it just been about the money. This was not the case. Along with being a very, _very_ popular franchise in the Wizarding World and thus was quite a big influence within the bigger circles, _Yakslovi's Miscellaneous Items_ had a Binding Contract with the Prewett House. Which meant Percy couldn't take out his part of the deal willy-nilly, even if he'd offered to leave the remaining stocks within that establishment no refunds needed Yakslovi's simply wouldn't let that happen.

And therein lay the problem. How ever was he supposed to slip by Harry bloody Potter's rather sharp and observant eyes, much less the goblins who were obligated by law to tell Potter just what was going on should he think to ask?

Merlin, Percy was getting a migraine. Studying for OWLS and NEWTS was never as difficult as this.

"...You alright, Percy?"

Percy screamed. Loudly. Jolting off his seat, he whipped out his wand and pointed it at the voice.

Ronald blinked at him, slowly raising his arms up as if he was unsure of whether or not to do so. They both stared at each other, one tense and breathing heavily, the other looking like they'd just rolled out of bed.

Percy squinted his eyes at his brother. "Ron- Ronald?" he said incredulously. "What in blazes- how did you get here?" he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. "Don't scare me like that!" he tacked on, rightly furious at the teen.

Ronald shrugged uncomfortably. "Sorry. Force of habit," he replied looking down. "I'll try to make more noise next time." He averted his gaze away from his brother, and Percy could feel the guilt radiating off his younger brother in waves.

Percy slid a hand down his face. "No - no, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped." He slid his wand back into his sleeves, ruffling his usually organized and clean hair. He slumped back down the couch, gathering the documents he'd scattered back together. "I thought you were asleep," he noted, staring at his brother worriedly.

Ronald gave him a wry grin. "Four hours is my limit to sleeping. Any more and I'll get sick."

Percy blanched. "That's...unfortunate. Not even Dreamless Sleep helps?" he asked.

The younger redhead (though with the roots of Ron's hair growing platinum blonde locks like that Percy wondered if Ronald was going to remain a full redhead or not) shook his head. "No. Tried it days ago. I feel fine, Percy. I promise."

Percy smiled in response, relief painting his picture, though a hint of concern still made its way as a gleam in his eyes. "If you're sure."

Ronald chose not to respond to that and instead changed the subject. "You know, I think if you meet with Yakslovi's representative you could probably change the terms of the contract. Or insert an addendum, somewhere."

Percy blinked at Ronald. The teen was pointing at the separate file of documents Percy had put aside to deal with the issue he'd encountered moments ago before he'd been interrupted. Percy scrunched up his nose in thought, mind running over his younger brother's words while rereading the contract.

...Ronald was right. He was disturbingly correct. So very intriguingly and disconcertingly correct and just how did Ron figure out how economics worked?!

"You stay right there," he hissed at Ron, who blinked and shrugged, sitting down opposite of him while sipping at the hot drink he'd somehow acquired. Percy wasn't going to ask. Right now he was more concerned about the pile of worms that was brought up by his strange new brother.

Not to say his brother wasn't strange, chess addiction and all, but Percy rather liked to think that this was like Ron turning over a new leaf. Or, god. Whatever.

Whatever the case, Ronald brought up a disturbingly brilliant point. He could shift the terms of the contract a little. Granted, it meant more paperwork for Percy, but if it granted them a little reprieve and a little more cover from unwanted attention, Percy would happily sell his left foot if it came down to it.

Paperwork seemed laughably simple in comparison, relatively safer, too.

The rest of the afternoon, Percy dropped whatever reservations he had about keeping Ronald away from bloody economics and all but bombarded the redhead with multi-faceted questions about production rates, trends and stock holding factors.

Ronald bore the burden relatively at ease.

(Percy thought that Ronald's muggle 'tablet' was a godsend. Ronald shifted uncomfortably. He did not have the heart to reveal to his older brother that this model was fairly...not quite up to par with what he was used to.)

* * *

A/N: I don't actually know how deeper economics work, so please take what I'm writing with a grain of salt. I only learned this in passing. This in no way reflects how actual business marketing is done in real life.


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